Oh! when will young Donald, wha left me to mourn,
Come back to Lochaber again?
Oh! when will he true to his promise return,
To lighten love's shroudin's o' pain?
Ochone! but my heart noo wi' longin' is breakin',
Oor shielin' is gloomy an' wae;
Ochone! for Lochaber seems lane an' forsaken,
An' lichtless to me is ilk day,
Come back to Lochaber, thou heart o' my heart!
Come back to Lochaber, we'll never mair part!
Ye angels o' love waft my prayer o'er the sea,
An' bring Donald hame to Lochaber an' me.
The sang o' the lav'rock gi'es pain to my bosom,
Despair seems to sough in ilk breeze,
Ilk floweret, in pity, noo hides its wee blossom
An shogs when my shadow it sees;
The eyes that he gazed on are dimmed in their splendour,
Grief's sadness encircles my brow;
The lips that he kissed, ah! nae smilin's can render,
For sorrow broods over them now,
Come back to Lochaber, &c.
Fast closin' around me, cold, cheerless, an' dreary,
Hope's darkness relentless appears,
Soon, soon, I shall rest in the home of the weary,
Where never are sorrows or tears.
He'll come, but not to gaze on the grave of his lover;
He'll weep on the flowerets above.
My spirit around him will joyously hover,
An' tell him I died for his love.
Come back to Lochaber, &c. |
